


Broken Pillars

by emerald_moons



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emerald_moons/pseuds/emerald_moons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Palpatine attacked too quickly, striking down the wrong target. Now Padmé Amidala is dead and Anakin a shell of his former self, his emotions suppressed in the darkest corner of his mind. The war with the Separatists rages on, but Obi-Wan and Anakin disappear, the master seeking a way to bring his friend back to himself without unleashing a Sith upon the galaxy.</p><p>[Becomes AU during the fight for Mandalore in season five of The Clone Wars]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Kenobi grazed his hand against the rough fabric of his cloak, assuring himself that it hid his identity. The bartender, an Ithorian who disliked Kenobi’s Tatooine-accented voice, certainly did not recognize him as the former general of the Grand Republic Army and Jedi famous to the HoloNet, but more observant eyes than his roamed the crowded cantina.

Kenobi watched the flow of traffic from his position in the corner of the bar. Even here, on a backwater planet in the Outer Rim, Kenobi ran the risk of spotting familiar faces. He was a popular man. He shifted his focus past the conversations in the cantina to the weak force signature of his bedridden companion some distance away. Dulled as the connection was, the touch served to steady his emotions.

He made the proper choice. He had to believe that.

“One shot of your best,” a familiar voice intoned a few seats down the bar. Bail Organa, disguised as he was in clothes unsuitable for a prince-consort, made no attempt to disguise his Alderaanian accent or the smooth confidence of a highly-esteemed senator. Kenobi finished his drink and went to Bail’s side, brushing shoulders while keeping his eyes trained on the door.

“Were you followed?” Kenobi asked.

“Not to my knowledge” Bail said, pitching his voice low. “My pilot is waiting patiently at the space port, though not without her complaints. You pick the best places to land, my friend.”

“More risk, less questions asked.” Kenobi laid his hand on Bail’s shoulder. “Come, I fear I’ve worn out my welcome with the bartender.” The Ithorian turned as if summoned, his face creasing with displeasure at the sight of Kenobi. Bail drank down his shot, enjoying the burn, and then nodded.

“Your people have always been masters at making a man’s skin itch, from my experience. Do you practice it?” Bail led them out. The humidity of the tropical planet bared down on the travelers in the full light of the sun.

Kenobi gave a low chuckle. “Natural talent. If you tried to teach a youngling such a thing, they would surely manage to do the opposite of frighten anyone.”

“Likely,” Bail agreed lightly. “How is your charge?”

Kenobi led them away from the main fare-way. “Poor. He eats on his good days. Knows where he is but doesn’t care. We have already been here far longer than I’d have liked.” Bail could tell this was the most Kenobi had said at once in a while. His worries about coming here were dismissed at the sight of Kenobi’s shoulders relaxing, just slightly, at the ability to speak freely.

“Have you considered Naboo? Maybe familiarity will arise some sort of feeling in him. I’m sure you could work—”

“Too obvious. Besides, I can’t tell yet if he will react positively to any reminders of her.” Kenobi led them toward a neighborhood of hut homes on a mountainous ridge in the valley port city. The temperature rose with each step. The world, mostly covered in oceans, was more welcoming from orbit than on its rocky landscape.

“You know that you are always a friend to Alderaan, if it should come to that.” Bail offered in lieu of a solution.

“How is Alderaan these days?” Kenobi turned to a hut on the right side of the path, moderate in size and nearly identical to its neighbors.

“Dooku appears to have recovered from the loss well, all the more unfortunate for us. But Alderaan remains far from the battlegrounds of the war. We received an honored guest recently, Master Yoda. He assured us of our safety.”

Kenobi stopped at the door, leaning against the hut wall. “Did he gleam my location?”

“Master Yoda left disappointed on that front, but not because of any cunning on my part. He came and went before you made contact.”

“Good,” Kenobi said shortly, and turned his attention to the datapad. He punched in the code with the ease of practice and gestured for Bail to lead. He obliged, relieved that the air system worked and blew cool air into his face. The hut was simply designed with a small sitting area and kitchen and two private rooms that no doubt led to a refresher and bedroom. The stone floor was a welcome difference from the loose dirt of the path.

The boy was nowhere in sight, but this didn’t surprise Bail. “May I see him?”

Kenobi rubbed his beard, considering Bail’s face. He knew Kenobi was touching his mind, discerning his motivations behind the question. Deeming them innocent, Kenobi nodded and approached the nearer of the closed doors.

“He may be asleep,” Kenobi warned, and Bail did not miss him drawing his hand near his concealed lightsaber. Bail hadn’t thought to wonder if the boy was dangerous. Kenobi palmed open the door as Bail decided it was too late to back away now.

The room was shrouded in near-complete darkness, the only light entering through the open door. Bail watched Kenobi case the room, unable to tell for himself what lay inside. Whatever he saw, Kenobi thought it safe and moved his hand away from his lightsaber.

He stood aside for Bail, muttering, “He’s awake. Don’t ... don’t get too close.” Bail’s eyes adjusted to the dim light and he saw that the room was bare except for a large bed and travel packs leaned against the near wall, spilling out their contents on the floor.

On the bed, curled into himself, laid Anakin Skywalker.

Skywalker looked terrible. He twitched under the blankets often enough that Bail recognized it as an unconscious motion. Only his durasteel hand, gripping the covers tightly, and his head were visible. His characteristic scar on his right cheekbone was matched with a dark bruise over his left eye. His face was sallow and sweaty even in the temperature-controlled room. If it wasn’t for the predatory way his eyes watched Bail’s movement into the room, Bail would have thought him lost in feverish sleep.

“Hello, Anakin.” Bail tried, the silence of the dark room stretching too long for comfort. He didn’t understand what had been done to the boy, but he knew they had altered his mind. Altered it in such a horrific way even Obi-Wan Kenobi’s famed loyalty to the Jedi Order was shaken. Bail wondered if Skywalker recognized him.

“Organa,” a low voice rasped, and Bail jumped before he realized it had come from Skywalker. He sounded as if he had not spoken in an age, but it was the emotionless quality to the word that chilled Bail. There was no question in the voice, nor Skywalker’s signature devil-may-carry wryness. Bail didn’t answer. After categorizing Bail’s reaction and seeming to dismiss him as harmless, Skywalker’s eyes drifted away to stare blankly at the wall.

“Have you eaten?” Kenobi asked Skywalker softly.

Skywalker did not reply. The scant attention he had given to Bail was a strong reaction in comparison to his disregard of Kenobi.

“No, then.” Kenobi said after a beat, unsurprised. Skywalker’s durasteel hand flexed on the blankets, but otherwise he remained still. “Come,” Kenobi said to Bail. “Let us talk of war.”

Bail briefed Kenobi on the war and what he knew of the Jedi’s actions. The entire time he could not escape the image of the dead-eyed Jedi laying in the next room. He pled off a meal with Kenobi, and the weary understanding in Kenobi’s eyes was almost too much to bear.


	2. Two

“Ahsoka. You are unfocused.”

Ahsoka did not turn as Master Plo approached, watching the perimeter of the GAR camp from a raised ridge on the otherwise flat landscape of Carida. Anakin had told her a story once, about a time when he came here as a Padawan with Master Kenobi and nearly married a native warlord’s daughter by accident. Master Kenobi had to use his revered negotiating skills to extract Anakin from that one. Anakin had laughed, loose and genuine, as he re-enacted the tale. Master Kenobi had shaken his head and told her “Anakin never learns.”

Pushing aside the memory, Ahsoka said, “I know, Master Plo. But how can I not think about them? Every time I turn around I expect Master Skywalker to be with me.”

Plo put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Ahsoka looked up at him and reminded herself that he was her master now. Six weeks, and she still stumbled when calling him ‘my master.’

“Young Skywalker always struggled with attachment,” Master Plo said after a moment. “Some would say it was inevitable that you, too, would develop attachments for your master in return. You must learn from your former master’s mistakes, Padawan Tano. You must let Anakin go.”

Ahsoka turned to face him at this. “But Master Plo, didn’t the Council say that both Master Kenobi and Anakin are still alive? We have to go find them! They could be in danger.” A strike of resentment went through her. The Council refused to tell even other masters what had happened in Palpatine’s office, other than that Senator Padmé Amidala had died at the hands of a Separatist assassin.

“Kenobi and Skywalker broke their vows and abandoned their duties when they departed Coruscant without authorization,” Master Plo said, without heat.

The official story was they had left to pursue the assassin. Ahsoka grew more suspicious about the mere existence of this mysterious assassin with each telling, without which there was gaping hole left in the story of who killed Senator Amidala. And Obi-Wan and Anakin wouldn’t just _leave_ the Jedi Order without a good reason.

But if it was serious, wouldn’t Anakin had brought her with him? Ahsoka had been off-planet with the younglings during the attack, but Anakin could surely have sent her a coded message explaining what was going on. She knew Anakin cared about her. Master Plo had nearly said so when he warned her of her own attachments.

“Padawan Tano,” Master Plo said, gentler now. “I know this is a difficult time for you. But you must let them go, as you have for all other Jedi who have been lost to this war.”

Ahsoka’s frustration wavered, then dissipated. She knew Master Plo was right. “Master, may I retire to my tent to meditate?”

“Yes, Ahsoka. Take time to sleep as well. We rise with the sun.”

 

Kit Fisto was distracted. His eyes wandered insistently toward Obi-Wan’s empty seat in the High Council chamber. Following with normal procedure after the death of a High Councilor, his seat should have been filled by a new master. This was not normal to let an absence linger, especially not in a room so acutely influenced by the Force.

Then again, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not dead, nor had the Order officially cast him out for his violation of the Jedi Code.

“We have to act on this before the choice is taken out of our hands.” Master Windu argued. “The Senate is threatening to launch an inquiry into the Jedi Order if we continue to fail in providing evidence that Chancellor Palpatine lives.”

“Allow this to happen, we cannot,” Yoda intoned. He was sunk deeply in his chair, brow furrowed, and Kit considered that he likely still suffered from the after-effects of what he had done to Skywalker. The first week after the Attack on the Chancellor, Yoda had been trapped away in private medical rooms recovering. Kit was again entranced by Obi-Wan’s chair, which he had studied to the point it appeared in his darker dreams. The reverberations of Kenobi’s anger, remembered at the sight of it, chilled him. He had never seen Master Kenobi lose control before.

Though nothing could compare to the blankness in Skywalker’s slack face and the faint quality of his Force signature. Kit feared Yoda had suppressed much more than Skywalker’s rage.

“Nor can we continue to ignore the situation with Kenobi and Skywalker,” Kit added, steeling himself against the sudden attention of the other councilors. And then, as if all acted of one mind, the attention shifted back to Yoda.

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “Come, the time has, to determine Skywalker and Kenobi’s fate.”

 

Only a talented eye could have caught sight of Obi-Wan Kenobi tucked in with the yellow brush of the mountainside. Unless they looked down from above, but the natives of the planet Rishi never expressed much interest in the “foolish” valley-dwelling colonizers. Obi-Wan saw what they meant, as the mountainside breeze offered a reprieve from the miserable heat cradled in the valley below. Here, Obi-Wan could extract himself from the exterior world and meditate.

He could not, however, stay much longer in the mountains. While Anakin had yet to display any interest in running away, Obi-Wan knew the man too well to think that he wouldn’t try it eventually. The thought of Anakin stealing a ship in his current state was enough to rouse him from the rocky ground and begin his descent toward their rented hut.

In the days since Bail Organa’s visit, Obi-Wan had grown increasingly restless with their situation. When Obi-Wan broached the topic of Palpatine with Bail he had recited the same lie that everyone else thought to be the truth: Palpatine’s safety had been considered too vital to the Republic after the attack on Coruscant and he had been moved to a safe house off-world. It disturbed Obi-Wan that the Jedi were continuing this charade. It had already been six weeks since the attack. The longer they waited, the more terrible the backlash from the public would be.

Obi-Wan’s musings occupied him the remainder of the trip to the hut, and only when the hut came into sight did he recognize the warning in the Force centered around it. Obi-Wan’s heart dropped, his mind on the ship Anakin would steal and the fruitless search for him that would follow. He ran to the hut, alarm increasing to see the door had been forced open by blaster damage to the keypad.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan yelled, igniting his lightsaber as he stepped inside the hut. He looked wildly at the kitchen and sitting area, taking in the turned-over table and blood on the stone floor. Blood that trailed toward Anakin’s room. Obi-Wan rushed to open the door before his imagination could come up with images of Anakin dying without Obi-Wan there to protect him.

He discovered a far different scene. Anakin stood at the base of the bed, lightsaber drawn, with a dead man at his feet. Bounty hunter by the looks of him, gutted with the unmistakable burns of a lightsaber. Anakin had his lightsaber in the ready position, but he relaxed when he saw Obi-Wan.

“Oh, it’s only you.” Anakin said, his blue blade retracting, and Obi-Wan cursed himself for hoping he would hear anything but the dull, detached voice he had come to associate with this new version of Anakin.

Still running on an adrenaline high, Obi-Wan stalked forward and gestured to the dead man. “What happened here, Anakin?”

“He meant to kill you. I dissuaded him of the idea,” Anakin tipped the man onto his back with a boot toe, exposing the entry wound from the lightsaber. There was no satisfaction at the kill, which Obi-Wan was grateful for, but no remorse either. He had been so distraught by the inactivity in Anakin these past weeks that he hadn’t considered that Anakin’s abilities with a lightsaber had not been affected. He knew now that at least some part of Anakin still cared about living. That had to mean something.

They couldn’t stay here. Who knows who had already seen evidence of the forced entry or heard the fight between Anakin and the bounty hunter. And the blood ...

“Anakin, who’s blood is that on the floor out there?”

“Mine,” Anakin lifted his shirt to show Obi-Wan a blaster wound on his left side patched up with some of their medical supplies. “He surprised me.” Obi-Wan didn’t think surprise was the term most fitting here, but he only assessed the wound to see if it was life-threatening.

Considering it a lesser threat at the moment, Obi-Wan cast his gaze around the room. “Pack up your things. We need to discretely remove the body from the hut and burn it. Then we need to get on the next ship off-world.”

Obi-Wan wondered if Anakin would revert back to inactivity now the threat had gone, but he nodded and replied. “I’ll take care of the body.”

Obi-Wan let him, but not without keeping a close eye on his movements. As Anakin heft the body over his shoulder and crept out as darkness fell, Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of panic.

Ever since Mandalore, killing seemed terribly easy for Anakin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note for anyone curious, my knowledge regarding the Star Wars universe is pretty strictly canon. I'm not familiar with EU material, so that won't be factoring into this story. Anyway, hope you enjoy!


	3. Three

Obi-Wan woke. He breathed in and oriented himself to the musky closeness of the bedroom. He was on a passenger vessel, one of many since he and Anakin had left the planet of Rishi. Anakin was –

He was –

Having a nightmare. Obi-Wan turned on his side to face the fraught figure of his former apprentice shivering and whispering to himself. Obi-Wan kept his hands passively at his sides, ever aware not to touch the young man. The last time Obi-Wan woke Anakin with a hand on his shoulder Anakin had panicked and attacked, and Obi-Wan was forced to knock him out with a blow to the face. The bruise had faded, but Obi-Wan carried the guilt as a reminder.

Watching this, Obi-Wan wanted to fly to Coruscant and make Yoda confront what he had made. Whatever solution he had thought he was giving Anakin wasn’t even _working properly_. Anakin barely moved when awake, no joy, no sadness, no anger showed on his face. Except for two days prior, when he murdered a man like it was the most logical thing to do. Anakin hadn’t even tried to discern who had sent the bounty hunter before thrusting his blade into the man’s stomach.

Anakin’s quaking shook the bed they shared. In sleep, Anakin transformed into a miserable creature that cried out and thrashed, fighting an enemy he could not remember in the morning. If the cycle wasn’t driving Anakin on a dangerous spiral toward insanity, Obi-Wan feared that he would succumb to the affects of watching it happen.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. His heart wrenched at the sight of his once proud and playful friend. “Oh, Anakin. Please wake up.” His hand moved without thought, stretching forward to touch Anakin. He snapped it away as the tips of his fingers grazed Anakin’s cheek, remembering himself at the last moment.

The touch was enough. Anakin stilled and the soft, desperate sounds he had been making came to an end. Anakin blinked his blue eyes open. He stared directly at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan’s breath caught. He was lucid.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin croaked. “Obi-Wan, what’s happening to me? What’s wrong with me?”

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan gasped. He had always hated the sound of his friend in pain, but to hear Anakin verbalize any emotion nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Anakin, it’s really you.”

“Master,” Anakin said, falling back on the old title. “I can’t fight it long.” Obi-Wan saw this to be true; Anakin couldn’t focus his eyes on one point for more than a second.

“What can I do?” Obi-Wan asked, a sense of purpose anew in him as he set Anakin up against his chest.

“Bring me back,” Anakin said, breathing hard. “Bring me back, Master. I-”

Anakin slumped against him. Obi-Wan adverted his gaze, unwilling to look back and see the cold indifference in his eyes he had come to dislike.

“You need to eat, my friend.” Obi-Wan told the man, brushing his fingertips through his dark blond hair. The chrono indicated it was nearly time to wake anyway.

Anakin’s breathing steadied out, and Obi-Wan turned to see he had already fallen into dreamless sleep. It took time, too long, for Obi-Wan to extract himself.

 

“I don’t know why we even bother to attend Senate sessions these days,” Mon Mothma said, sitting at the edge of her seat in Bail Organa’s Coruscant living quarters. “The moderator has lost whatever shred of control he started with.”

“For fear that if we don’t, something terrible will pass.” Riyo Chuchi of Pantora responded from her position at the transparisteel windows, looking out over the endless city and its heavy evening traffic. Their session had lasted from morning to late afternoon. The sun now dipped low in the sky and the buildings glinted with orange and red light.

“Once the trooper reinforcement bill passes – and we know it will in light of the attack on Coruscant – there will be nothing in the way of ordering an investigation on the Jedi,” Bail said, checking his datapad for his notes.

“You oppose the investigation?” Chuchi asked, facing the room with her eyebrows raised. “I too am a friend to the Jedi, or at least some of them, but everyone knows they aren’t telling us everything about the attack. Don’t you want to know the truth about Senator Amidala’s death?”

The Pantoran’s words hung in the air. The death of the famed opposition leader, who had earned the respect of many on both sides of the war, had hit them all hard. The feeling that Padmé should be here, leading the conversation on their next plan of action, was hard to shake. Padmé should be weighing whether she should throw her hat in for the interim chancellor position that had been called at their latest session. Not dead.

“It would be ill-informed for any here to suggest Bail Organa does not care about what happened to Senator Amidala,” Fang Zar said darkly.

Chuchi bowed her head. “Forgive me Senators, Organa. These are trying times. Rumors the Jedi are attempting to overthrow the civilian government are becoming hard to ignore as conspirators’ talk.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mothma scoffed. “It goes against everything the Jedi believe in.”

Riyo leveled Mon with her gaze. “Rumors have great power. Best we not be on the wrong side of them.”

 

Their fake identities held on Llanic, with some monetary persuasion. Obi-Wan herded Anakin away from the main ports, containing his disgust for the smuggler’s paradise. He had led a mission here early in the war, attacking Separatist outposts that thrived among the filth. But for two Jedi on the run, it served as a brilliant place to lose oneself.

“Have I been here?” Anakin asked, evaluating potential threats as they weaved through the market in a way Obi-Wan recognized as painfully familiar. Ever since the bounty hunter on Rishi some days before, when they began jumping from ship to ship around the Outer Rim, Anakin experienced moments of interest. He knew who and what he was, and that the threat of new enemies remained. But when questioned if he knew _why_ they were on the run, he shut down.

Without the burden of caring what they did one way or another, Anakin had plenty of time to play obedient soldier. Even the strictest of the shinies possessed more heart than this Anakin. The thought made Obi-Wan ache to see Cody, or Rex, and he knew that the entire 501st and 212nd must have been disbanded and merged into other battalions based on need. It rung a resounding sense of finality in Obi-Wan. He left the Jedi Order. The war carried on. His men served someone else now.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan responded, weary. “At the beginning of the war.” Was this all he had? An Anakin who barely deserved the name, bereft of pain but happiness as well? The decision to take Anakin away had been clear on Coruscant, the betrayal of what Yoda had done close at hand, but with each day without progress Obi-Wan began to think himself a fool.

But then he remembered Anakin’s panic yesterday morning, when he had somehow managed to push into awareness and feel truly scared. What Yoda had done wasn’t like putting a pet out of its misery. Anakin, the real Anakin with his dangerous anger and need for love, was trapped inside himself.

If Obi-Wan did not do as Anakin asked and try to break Anakin free of his bonds, he feared that Anakin would manage himself with much deadlier result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of an in-transit chapter, but more substantial action should be coming soon.


	4. Four

Three Jedi Masters and two Padawans all together outside of Coruscant, let alone at an Outer Rim Republic outpost, was nearly unthinkable at this point in the war. Every battle was too important to devote any more than the bare minimum to each. Accident was the only cause for such a cluster.

Master Plo and Ahsoka arrived as Master Unduli and Padawan Offee were about to leave, but Unduli decided to momentarily delay the return to the fight to exchange intel and small pleasantries with familiar faces. When Master Quinlan Vos limped out of his starfighter – definitely not a Republic-issued one at that – the two other Masters took it in with a shrug and started interrogating him as well.

Ahsoka left the Masters to it and turned to Barriss Offee, whom she considered a friend after their experience during the second battle on Geonosis. “How are you and Master Unduli holding up?”

Barriss shrugged, “As well as we can.” She inquired about the battle on Carida and traded stories of her own most recent adventures. Barriss had always been somewhat reserved, more of a by-the-book Jedi than Ahsoka, and she didn’t relish sharing stories of victory in the way Ahsoka did. 

“I hate this war,” Barriss said suddenly.

“I know, Barriss. We all do,” Ahsoka said soothingly, turning down the hall that led to their quarters. Sometimes Anakin would have outbursts like this after a particularly hard defeat. “But we must continue to protect the Republic. The Council–”

“Has lost their way,” Barriss countered, and Ahsoka flinched. “The Jedi are supposed to be _peacekeepers_ , Ahsoka. We made our first mistake in even engaging in this war. This violence, this destruction – it is not the way of the Jedi. And now they’re keeping secrets from us!” Barriss stopped short and grabbed Ahsoka by the shoulders. The intensity of emotion Ahsoka saw there frightened her; Barriss’ anger bled through her shields. “You of all people shouldn’t lie down and let them do this.”

“Of all people?” Ahsoka asked, but she knew what path Barriss was trying to go down. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Anakin.” It was the first time she had voiced Anakin’s name with someone other than Master Plo. Everyone else had respectfully pretended he didn’t exist.

“It has everything to do with him. Have you considered that Kenobi and Skywalker may have come to realize the folly of our actions and that the Council is trying to silence them?”

“Has Master Unduli...” Ahsoka started, but she trailed off as she heard the very woman speaking as she and Vos came down the hall toward the officer’s quarters. Barriss dragged Ahsoka back and around the curve of the hall. Pressed against the cool durasteel, they listened.

“Do you know where they are?” Unduli asked Vos.

At first Ashoka thought she meant Barriss and her, but Vos replied, “They stayed on the planet Rishi for quite some time, but they up and left the system a few days ago. We tracked them for three jumps in and out of Rim systems, but lost them after the fourth change. Didn’t make it to the port in time. Obviously their intention. Well, Kenobi’s intention. Skywalker... something was wrong with him.”

“What do you mean?” Unduli asked.

“I don’t know, Luminara,” Vos said, worried. “I’ve never seem him act like that before. He was aware of his surroundings, but not accessing the Force beyond the natural minimal levels. Normally Skywalker revels in his use of the Force, using it at any chance he can get.”

“Sounds like you,” Unduli teased, but then her tone turned serious. “This is worrisome. I don’t suppose you know why they’ve left?”

“No. I wish I did. None of this feels right.” Vos paused. “Dear Padawans, do you think that I can’t sense you?”

Ahsoka guiltily peeked her head around the corner of the hall. Barriss followed. “I’m sorry Master Vos. I’m just worried about my master.”

“Unsurprising,” Vos said gently. “But you must remember that you have been reassigned to Master Plo. He is your master now. Do not cling to your old Master.”

“I know,” Ahsoka said, scuffing her boots against the floor.

Unduli saved her from the stilted silence. “Commander Offee, it is time we get ready for our deployment. We have already delayed once.”

“Yes Master,” Barriss said, bowing her head before disappearing in the quarter’s Ahsoka would be trading with her that evening. Vos put a large hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder and smiled.

“It’s going to be okay, ‘Soka.”

Ahsoka nodded, and went to the room Barriss had gone into. Barriss turned away from her packing at the sound of the door, regarding her with an assessing gaze. It felt somewhat like a stare-down from Unduli, and Barriss must have learned it from being on the receiving end. Ahsoka preferred how verbal and physical a teacher Anakin had been. She always knew where she stood with him.

“Master Unduli is one of the most trusted of the non-Council Masters,” Barriss said at last, turning back to collecting her scattered gear. “And yet she knows no more than a Padawan about this affair. Do you see what I mean? This war has made them power-hungry and distrustful of their own.” Scowling, Barriss added, “Maybe they should be.”

“What are you saying?” Ahsoka asked, crossing her arms defensively. She didn’t know many Council members well, but Master Plo had more than earned her respect and her trust.

“I’m saying I’m not the only Jedi questioning the leadership of the Council,” Barriss said shortly, hoisting her pack on her back and coming close, vibrant blue eyes intent on Ahsoka’s face. “Don’t let them make you forget General Skywalker.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth, but her words were silenced by the arrival of Unduli, who gave her a small smile. “General Koon requests you in the command center, Commander Tano. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you and your troops have been granted leave on Coruscant.”

 

Ahsoka thanked Unduli and departed, but Barriss’ words left her with a sour feeling in her stomach.

 

Anakin fell back into lethargy once again, spending much of his time in their run-down rented rooms in Llanic’s capital city. Obi-Wan scouted local cantinas eager for new information on the war, of which many here profited. The situation remained at a standstill, victories traded back and forth after the initial Republic slump following the loss of their two top generals.

A Zeltron woman he spoke with didn’t care much for the war, but she was willing to humor him with her limited knowledge. His resistance to her pheromones seemed only to increase her interest in him. She gave telepathic prods to his shields at random intervals, amusement playing at her lips when he paused speaking to concentrate on keeping her out.

“And the Republic Senate? What do you know of it?” Obi-Wan asked, tilting his face down toward the counter. She kept trying to lean in to better see his face beneath his cloak. Obi-Wan knew he needed to shave the beard soon, no matter his fondness for it. He was too recognizable.

She gave in easily, rolling her shoulders in a shrug and dropping a hand atop his on the bar. “Don’t care much for politics myself, but the rumors are the Jedi aren’t as pious as they say. The Senate is preparing to order an investigation on them, or something of the sort.” The mention of _Jedi_ brought a new spark to her eyes. “You know, I’d say most men aren’t so adept at ignoring my advances.”

“I’m afraid I am otherwise attached, darling,” Obi-Wan said, standing and extracting his hand. “Thank you for the company.”

The woman dragged her fingers through her dark blue hair, remaining in her seat. “I’ll be around for a few more days, if you suddenly become less ‘attached.’”

The fresh wave of pheromones nearly overpowered Obi-Wan’s will. “Thank– thanks for the offer,” he replied, pushing his arousal away and turning in the opposite direction, using the reminder of Anakin to resist the urge to turn around and damn all the consequences.

Anakin remained in the same position as when Obi-Wan left. He stirred when Obi-Wan sat at his side, the lumpy bunk dipping with Obi-Wan’s weight. Anakin pressed his face into Obi-Wan’s thigh, breathing in the familiar scent. He hadn’t complained about the bed, but he wouldn’t have anyway. After all the places they had slept in this war alone, a bed was a bed.

Obi-Wan traced the line of the scar on Anakin’s cheek, where Ventress had cut through Anakin’s defenses in an early battle. It helped Obi-Wan to have evidence Anakin was human and breakable, in contrast with how often his former apprentice asserted his invulnerability.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin didn’t respond. Obi-Wan shook his shoulder. “Anakin, may I... have a look at your mind, just for a moment?”

Anakin opened his eyes, blinking against the light filtering in through a high window. “Will it hurt?”

Obi-Wan smiled, pushing back at memories of a young Anakin asking the same question. “No, it won’t hurt.” The promise was disingenuous. Obi-Wan had no idea what to expect from this exploration.

“Okay,” Anakin said, rolling on his back, but otherwise resuming his half-conscious dozing. If their weeks on Rishi amounted to anything, they had established Anakin did not view Obi-Wan with fear or suspicion. Obi-Wan wondered if this prodding might change the assessment.

Obi-Wan shifted closer and raised his hands to Anakin’s temples. Anakin twitched at the contact, but didn’t protest. Obi-Wan didn’t need a physical link, technically, but it grounded him. Entering the mind of another, especially a mind as strong-willed as Anakin’s, was not a skill he boasted. He took a moment to steady himself before he dared touch Anakin in the Force. Then he reached out and pressed at the Master-Padawan bond. Anakin’s signature was weak, as it had been since Coruscant, but Obi-Wan wrapped his mind around the shape of him. In normal circumstances Anakin would acknowledge the bond with a tug on his end, but Anakin continued to lay there, as if unaware of the bond at all. The lack of response had led Obi-Wan to shy away from it before. It gave him a distinct impression of trying to communicating with an empty vessel.

“Stay calm,” Obi-Wan cautioned, remembering he worked on a conscious subject, before he reached deep into the Force bond.

Obi-Wan ran into mental barriers and shielding immediately. They weren’t self-placed, as all the locks directed inward, with only precautionary protections placed on the exterior. The intent of the exercise was not to keep an outsider out, but to trap the man inside himself.

The power necessary to push past barriers of this nature was astonishing, one of a skilled Master, and one with a great amount of determination and dedication to the effort at that. Words like _Chosen One_ , or Anakin swearing to the unfairness of his Knight status in his darker moments, drifted forward, but Obi-Wan set them aside. He was already out of his league attempting this. His reasonings when it came to Anakin... well, in any case a Master has a tendency toward bias with his Padawan.

Anakin shifted on the bed, and it refocused Obi-Wan on the task at hand. Anakin couldn’t be left in this state. Obi-Wan risked everything he ever hoped to accomplish with the Jedi Order in the belief Yoda’s actions were morally wrong and unjust. Grand words, but none that would unravel how to erase the damage done. Should Obi-Wan try to break them all down at once, or face each one by one? Only Yoda or a gifted telepath would know the proper points to press in Anakin’s mind without creating permanent damage or triggering hostility.

Like remembering the events on Coruscant, which seemed too to be repressed by Yoda’s hand. Obi-Wan had a bad feeling that stirring up Anakin’s emotions would bring back everything he had forgotten.

_Better this way, he is._

Obi-Wan respected Yoda’s wisdom in the great matters of Jedi schooling, the power of the Force and the corrupting affects of the Dark Side, but Yoda had always been wary of the decision to take on Anakin and his unique complications.

This was not the matter of a a simple disagreement on Padawan learner teaching methods, however. Anakin, in the days after Mandalore, had made decisions that reeked of the Sith. The Anakin that walked out of the Duchess Satine’s palace those weeks ago was not the boy Qui-Gon found on Tatooine.

No. Yoda and Obi-Wan broke rank because the Grand Master decided Anakin Skywalker was past saving.

And Obi-Wan was not ready to let him go.

“You’re crying,” Anakin observed. He had opened his eyes again, sensing Obi-Wan’s distress.

Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin, realizing what he said was true. He pulled back from the Force bond and retracted his hands, drawing his cloak around himself as if a sudden chill permeated the air. He breathed, and focused on his breaths until the shake in his voice evened out.

“I miss you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“But I haven’t left,” Anakin replied, with a touch of confusion.

“I know.”

Obi-Wan shaved off his beard and cropped his hair close that night, rubbing the smooth skin of his chin experimentally. It felt like a greater loss than mere facial hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow "Begging for Thread" has become my Anakin song for this story. Hope you enjoy! Feedback always appreciated.


	5. Five

Sometimes the silence of space discomfited Ahsoka. She grew up surrounded by people, most younglings and Padawans like herself, but also with those outside the Temple walls where Coruscant buzzed with life at all hours. Finding peace among madness was a talent all Jedi had to learn.

However, space offered a good atmosphere for meditation. Its enormity compared to the Force – all around her and vast beyond her comprehension. Beautiful, yet dangerous in the wrong situations. Ahsoka sought out these thoughts as she traveled through hyperspace back to the Temple. She hoped it could help her think outside of herself and the attachments that held her back from fully embracing the Force and its mission for her as a Jedi.

Then she thought of Anakin calling her Snips, congratulating her on leadership in the field, and all her introspections fell apart. Ahsoka first thought to go to Master Plo and meditate with him, but he had been troubled since the Council meeting, which he had attended through holo on Carida. Ahsoka sensed mentioning Anakin now would not be the wisest course of action.

“Commander?” Ahsoka pulled out of her meditative state to find Captain Rex watching from her doorway. He wore his under-suit now, fresh from the showers if his wet hair was anything to go by. Ahsoka didn’t resist her easy grin at the sight of him and gestured for him to enter. She put in a good word for him with Plo, citing their extensive combat experience together under General Skywalker’s command, and he’d been brought in at her side. Rex had managed to keep some of his men, but the 501st had such a reputation most generals requested at least some of the men from the battalion.

She was glad for his company, but even more so his ability to ease the tension between Commander Wolfe and Ahsoka, as she had effectively usurped his position as General Koon’s second by her higher status as a Jedi. 

“Captain Rex. What is it?” Ahsoka rose to her feet, rolling up her meditation mat.

“We’re switching hyperspace lanes shortly, sir, then after another three-hour stretch we should be arriving at Coruscant. General Koon wants us to report to his quarter’s once we recommence in hyperspace.”

“Who’s we?”

“You and I, Commander. The information appears to be – sensitive.” Rex shifted on his feet, resting his right hand near his blaster out of habit. “Got any idea what’s going on, sir?”

“Sorry, Rex. Haven’t a clue.” Ahsoka stowed her mat and considered him, who she knew hated to wait around for bad news. “How about you help me with my hand-to-hand training while we wait? I seem to remember you calling my right hook “sloppy and ill-timed.”

Rex grinned with a competitive edge, “You’ve got yourself a deal, sir.”

 

Anakin would not remember this when he woke.

The images came in flashes. Padmé’s face, twisted in horror. The flash of red light sabers against blue. Obi-Wan calling out across a reception hall, the words unheard over the blood pounding in his ears. Crying. Satine – no, Padmé – cradled in Obi-Wan’s arms, in _his_ arms. Anger. The crackle and burn of lightning in the air. A sharp gasp of pain, then screaming. Blood in his mouth. Was he screaming? Was he screaming? Someone screamed, and he put his hands to his ears begging for the wretched sound to cease.

“Anakin, calm down.” Obi-Wan said, but Anakin couldn’t see him, where was he? Not dead. Never dead. _He’d kill whoever dared touch him and–_

“Anakin!”

Anakin opened his eyes, gasping for breath. His throat felt raw and his chest heaved and he realized that it was him that screamed. He lowered his hands from his ears, where he had tried to block himself out. Block... block...

He forgot.

Kenobi held Anakin down at the hip and shoulder like he thought Anakin would try to escape. But that was preposterous. Kenobi was the only person he knew. He took care of Anakin and Anakin took care of him. He killed for Kenobi, so he wouldn’t be left alone. He wasn’t sure what was so bad about being alone, but Kenobi was nice. He gave Anakin tea how he liked it and didn’t ask him to be a Jedi. Anakin wasn’t sure he knew how to be one now, just that he was. Used to be.

“Anakin, are you alright?” Kenobi asked, moving the pressure off Anakin’s hip as Anakin continued to stay in one place.

“Fine.” Kenobi seemed to like it when he spoke, so Anakin tried for him. Even though sometimes it was hard. Sometimes it hurt to speak. He didn’t know why.

“Just a bad dream,” Kenobi said, more to himself than Anakin. Anakin didn’t bother trying to understand him, as he said nonsense most of the time. Kenobi returned his gaze to Anakin, considering, “May I have a look at you again?”

“Sure,” Anakin said, settling back into his scratchy pillow. Something about Kenobi’s touch through the Force felt pleasant and it made Kenobi happy to do this, even if Anakin could hardly reckon why. He relaxed fully, his limbs falling loose and eyes blinking closed. He sensed mild distress and curiosity from neighboring sections of the complex Kenobi and Anakin stayed in, but it faded as he began to focus on it. Dawn was soon, but most still slept. The neighbors had awaken to a disturbance, but whatever it was no longer troubled them.

Anakin wavered on the verge of sleep when he felt Kenobi’s slight mental pressure increase, and continue increasing until he sensed a _snap_. Suddenly, a powerful wave of Force energy blinded him and his head throbbed with pain. Anakin wrapped his fingers in the covers, twisting them in his grip as he tried to ground himself in the physical. He focused on the calloused hands against his temples, taking in shallow breaths, and only realized Kenobi was the cause of the pain when he drew his hands away.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked quietly, as thoughts he did not understand rushed forward. Affection for his Master, a love for a woman he couldn’t name. Relief, as the Force flowed around him stronger than before, ready for him to use and manipulate. He hadn’t understood its absence until it returned to him.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan, wrapped in anxiety and apprehension, sat at his side. He remembered this, waking up to some disturbance, but even these close memories were shrouded in confusion. Why was he here? Where was – he couldn’t remember who they were, but they were important. The influx of Force energy and disorientation threatened to make him sick.

A childish need for a comfort object compelled his eyes open, and only when he spotted the familiar form of his lightsaber on a small table, more by its power signature than by sight in the half-lit room, did he relax into the Force and let it flow freely over his skin and between his bones.

“Master, what’s wrong? I’m... confused.” His own voice sounded foreign.

“Anakin, what do you remember?” Obi-Wan began to shift back, as if to stand, but Anakin shot out his left hand to grab at Obi-Wan’s nearest. Obi-Wan obliged his need for contact, settling at Anakin’s flank, the warmth of his body pressed against Anakin’s. Anakin tried to think, but everything was harder than it should have been, his concentration shot.

“Something terrible happened,” Anakin recalled slowly. He judged that he should be sad about this, or angry, but trying to feel more than vague confusion and a contentedness with being near his Master made his head ache in warning. “But I’m not sure what.”

“Anakin, you’re tired,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin realized his voice was laced with compulsion. “I think you should sleep.”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan rested his palm against his forehead and Anakin fell back against the pillow. _I_ am _tired. I’ll get it out of him when I wake up._

 

Ahsoka rapped on the door of Plo’s rooms, Captain Rex at her shoulder. They were still sweaty from their matchup earlier and Ahsoka prodded at a spot on her arm which would likely blossom into a dark bruise. “General Plo? It’s Commander Tano and Captain Rex.”

Plo intoned a welcome and Ahsoka and Rex filed in, Rex drawing to attention while Ahsoka took on an wide stance with her hands held behind her back. Plo sat at the desk installed where a second bunk would been placed. “At ease, Captain,” Plo said, his grandfatherly voice grave. “Now, you must swear to secrecy on the matter I am about to broach with you. Not a word to your fellow soldiers or others in the Temple.” Plo settled his gaze on Ahsoka meaningfully.

“Yes, sir.”

“You have my word, Master Plo.”

“Good,” Plo stood, moving out from behind his desk. “I am afraid I have been keeping you in the dark about matters of great importance. Technically, this information is not to be shared beyond the Jedi High Council. Not yet.”

Plo settled on standing a few feet in front of Ahsoka. He looked very tired and old all of a sudden and Ahsoka’s thoughts immediately turned to fears about his health. “However, I have judged that you two will be uniquely affected by this information and deserve to know before this is released to the public.”

Only one person meant enough to Ahsoka and Rex for Master Plo to have drawn such a conclusion. Ahsoka felt sick.

“Ahsoka, I know you have many questions about the fates of Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker,” Plo began, and Ahsoka noticed he did not use their military designations, and there seemed to be an emphasis on Anakin’s lower rank. “Your suspicions about the Separatist assassin are correct. There was no assassin. The only men and women in the Chancellor’s chambers were Chancellor Palpatine, Knight Skywalker, and Senator Amidala, though many members of the Council rushed to the scene just after the events within the chancellor’s chambers occurred.”

Ahsoka’s eyes lit up, “So Padmé’s not dead? The Jedi faked her death to protect her?”

The sadness in Plo’s eyes told her otherwise. “No, Ahsoka, I am afraid that the Senator is very much dead.”

“But Anakin... the Chancellor...” Ahsoka stuttered.

“I’m very sorry Ahsoka,” Plo said, and closing his eyes for a moment. “But you know as well as I that Anakin Skywalker was not always careful with his emotions. Even reckless, at times.”

“What are you—”

“Anakin murdered Senator Amidala and Chancellor Palpatine.”

_No._


	6. Six

Guilt over knocking Anakin out lasted only a few minutes before Obi-Wan redirected his energies to try to understand what he had done. He bridged the two methods of returning Anakin to himself in weakening all the barriers he could at once, enough that Anakin would start to feel something again, but not everything at once. The result felt small for the wave of tiredness that swept over Obi-Wan, especially combined with subduing Anakin.

Obi-Wan didn’t pretend he understood what all he had done. It was part of the reason he had chosen this approach. Yoda’s shielding had mostly concealed from an outsider what it was he hid. If Obi-Wan targeted one source, he could bring out all of Anakin’s anger without his remorse, or loyalty, or love.

He did know Anakin didn’t remember. Remembering Palpatine was a Sith and Padme’s death... Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he could handle the result alone.

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his forehead, new weight settling between his shoulders. He wasn’t Anakin, spoiling for a fight ever five minutes, but the idea of a simple lightsaber battle against an enemy like Ventress sounded almost peaceful.

Of course, now even Ventress wavered, cast out from Dooku’s shadow and into a growing area of gray.

Obi-Wan meditated on his actions and waited for Anakin to wake, unsure of who he would encounter this time.

 

“They released the official statement to the public. The Jedi honored and burned Chancellor Palpatine’s remains already, but a ceremonial funeral will be held in two Coruscanti days.”

Rex relayed the information as if they stood in the command center of a starship, instead of in Ahsoka’s private rooms in the Jedi Temple as Ahsoka stared blankly at the floor, hugging herself defensively, like she could block out the words even as Rex stood there with an even expression, freshly shaven and impeccably dressed in his finest dress uniform. As if the man he had trusted with his life and called friend wasn’t a wanted murderer.

The Council, in a report sent to all Jedi that morning, stated that the truth had been hidden from all the but the highest members of the Jedi Order so they could secretly uncover whether Anakin Skywalker acted as a lone agent or if he had been in league with Count Dooku and the Separatists, and if he had converted other Jedi to his side. They ruled, from reports gathered by the Jedi Master sent after him — none other than Anakin’s former Master Obi-Wan Kenobi — that Anakin had in fact acted independently.

Ahsoka almost wished Anakin had sided with the Separatists and been Dooku’s blade to behead the Republic. But this, it just didn’t make sense.

“Commander?” Rex asked, finally steeping out of the doorway and allowing the door to whistle shut behind him.

“Please, Rex, don’t call me that. Not right now.” Ahsoka knew she bore signs of her sleepless nights since they arrived in Coruscant three days prior. Her clothes were rumpled and every sound felt magnified in the quiet, as Rex breathed in and eased his shoulders down into what was, for him, a slump. Without a word, he settled on the bed next to her, close enough she felt his heat.

“Ahsoka,” Rex started, and it hit her that Rex hadn’t once called her “kid” since Anakin had left. _Left._ Another part of this story that made no sense. Why did the Jedi Order go through all the effort to denounce both Anakin and Obi-Wan when in reality Obi-Wan was out there trying to –

Kidnap his former apprentice. The mere idea of it felt absurd.

“Do you believe it?” Ahsoka said, needing to know. “Do you really think he did it?”

Rex considered her with a sharp, steady gaze. “The day I start questioning my orders is the day I forget who I am, sir.”

“But you questioned Krell, didn’t you?” Ahsoka gave him a sidelong glance. “You saw he was trying to kill you and your men and you acted to stop him. You defied orders then.”

“Krell was one man, not the body of leaders defending the Republic from the Seps’ attacks. You should know better than to compare that monster with the Jedi Council. Sounds treasonous, Ahsoka.”

“What do you think?” Ahsoka challenged, straightening her back and settling her hands into her lap, where they curled into the semblance of fists.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Do you think I’m being treasonous, Rex?”

Rex hesitated, then put his hand on top of his hers. “I know you are in pain, Ahsoka, but you didn’t see Mandalore. The General wasn’t himself there.”

Ahsoka turned on the bed, pulling her leg up and resting it against Rex’s thigh. Her hands remained entangled with his. “No one ever told me what happened on Mandalore,” Ahsoka said, quietly. “I know the Duchess died, as did Maul and Savage, but otherwise, nothing.”

“Are you asking, sir? You won’t like what you hear.”

“I don’t _care_ ,” Ahsoka said. “I’m tired of being in the dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very long overdo! My apologies, I've been preparing for the last few weeks for my travel abroad (I'm leaving Friday for a study abroad) and I haven't gotten around to writing much. I believe I will continue to write through my time away, but will be slower to get out chapters.


	7. Seven

_Mandalore: Seven Weeks Prior_

“General, what’s Mandalore’s status?” Rex asked, looking out the main viewpoint at General Skywalker’s side. Ever since he’d returned from his emergency meeting with the Chancellor, the General had been closed mouthed about the exacts of the mission. He brought Rex, Fives and Jesse at Rex’s probing that it would be a poor idea for him to go alone to a hostile planet.

“Darth Maul and that beast Savage are back,” General Skywalker said tersely, his hand flexing against the hilt of his lightsaber as they stared out at the light of hyperspace. “They’ve taken over the terrorist group Death Watch and have arrested Duchess Satine. As a neutral system, we cannot protect it with a military force. But I must go and protect my Master.”

“Are you alright, sir?” Rex asked. General Skywalker generally reacted to these kinds of missions with excitement, running high on adrenaline and confidence. Everything about him now radiated anxiety and aggression. He checked the gauges and time until they reacted their destination for the fourth time. “I thought you knew General Kenobi went to Mandalore. Didn’t you lend him your ship?”

“The situation has changed,” General Skywalker said, brightening for a moment to give Rex a grim smile, “And I’m fine, just make sure Fives and Jesse know what to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex replied. “I just don’t know if I’m comfortable letting you take on Maul and Savage alone.”

“Don’t worry, Rex,” General Skywalker said the close imitation of his usual playful tone. “Obi-Wan will be with me.”

Rex would have relaxed, but the General’s demeanor reverted to his earlier frustrated silence.

On Mandalore, everything was in chaos. They exited hyperspace to an eerily inactive space around the scarred desert planet, as if all starships had been grounded during the Death Watch takeover. General Skywalker regarded the scene in silence as he routed them toward the main spaceport in the capital city of Sundari.

Inside the bubble, the city was in flames, and the spaceport abandoned by the civilian workers. General Skywalker pointed to armed insurgents waiting at the parameter of the landing area. Rex thought gruffly that they were fools for giving the General any sort of advantage.

They easily took down the border patrol, who wore the distinctive uniforms of the Death Watch. Skywalker leading, they made their way from there to Satine’s palace. When the palace grounds came into sight, the General signaled for the troopers to cover him as he dashed forward, deflecting blasts with his lightsaber with practiced ease.

Rex and his men soon derailed the attack against Skywalker as Death Watch was forced to protect themselves from the clone’s attack. Rex silenced any thoughts on how the General fared against Maul until they broke throw the defenses and entered the palace. The quiet of the interior put Rex on edge, until he heard the voices of Kenobi and Skywalker. Arguing, it sounded like. A Death Watch member rounded the corner and stopped dead in front of them, a cut off– “Oh, I–” silenced by Jesse’s blast to the man’s chest. He fell limp to the floor and they hurried past into the main chamber.

“–completely out of line,” Kenobi was saying, stern, and Rex halted his men with a hand at the door. The fighting here had finished, that much was obvious. Two Death Watch guards lay prone on the floor only a few feet in front of Rex, and he noted with tinge of sympathy that the Duchess Satine had fallen as well, her body crumpled in on itself near the dais. Savage’s body lay near hers. But what drew Rex’s attention was Skywalker standing over the body of Darth Maul, his lightsaber ignited and hovering over Maul’s mangled body. Maul had unmistakably been slashed into by a lightsaber multiple times, some of the blows erratic and imprecise. Beyond overkill, a Jedi who attacked like that was considered a danger to themselves and the people around them.

“Anakin,” Kenobi said, a sharp edge to his tone. He stood behind Anakin with his lightsaber in his hand, unlit but at the ready. “What’s gotten into you?”

Skywalker jerked, and finally looked away from Maul’s body. A flash of anger marred his face as he disengaged his lightsaber and turned to face General Kenobi. “Only making sure the job was done right, Master.” Kenobi didn’t flinch, but his mouth flattened into a hard line and he turned to see Rex and the others in the entryway.

“We will speak of this later, Anakin. There is nothing more I can do here now.” Kenobi cast a backward glance at the Duchess before he moved forward, gesturing for the clone to fall in behind him. Rex felt at a loss, like he'd missed a vital part of the conversation, but followed Kenobi with his blaster raised.

Word had spread of the fallen leadership by the time they arrived outside, and by the lack of attacks directed their way, a new leader had taken their place. Rex cast it out of his mind once they left the atmosphere, but the sight of General Skywalker stalking through the battle-torn city kept returning. Rex had seen that expression before. He knew that beneath the anger, the General was terrified. Of what, Rex could not begin to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while! Even though I'm abroad, this story has been tailing me around. So hopefully more to come soon.


	8. Eight

“What have you done to your beard? You look dreadful.”

Obi-Wan startled into awareness from his position on the floor. Anakin, who had slept several hours since Obi-Wan subdued him, looked as if he had just returned from a successful mission. He laid open and relaxed on his side and he watched Obi-Wan with interest. Obi-Wan hadn’t even noticed Anakin waking, his guard down after weeks of hiding away unnoticed.

“Thought I’d change things ups,” Obi-Wan replied lightly, withholding the truth until he could get a better gauge on this version of Anakin. “How are you feeling?”

Anakin shrugged, somewhat awkwardly from his position, “Like I’ve slept for four rotations. My bones are going to be as creaky as yours, Master.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow in response, noting that Anakin was surveying the room whist speaking. “Are you calling me old, Anakin?” Obi-Wan kept his eye on Anakin’s lightsaber, positioned only an arm-length from his side. Hopefully Anakin would see this as a sign of trust, but Obi-Wan knew his former Padawan far too well. His own saber was nestled inside his robe, radiating power in the Force.

“I’d never,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan heard the dissonance in his voice. The lines were right, but the tone was wrong. Wooden. Like he knew what to say to distract Obi-Wan, but couldn’t remember how to replicate happiness. And while Anakin tried to disguise his mistrust, the feeling rang out in the Force as if he snarled at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan wondered how long he would keep up the charade.

Obi-Wan weighed the prospects for a mere moment before Anakin lunged, drawing his weapon into his hand with the Force and shucking himself of the heavy blankets. By the time his blade shore blue, Obi-Wan held his matching blade in front of him in a defensive position, drawn up on one knee.

“Anakin, be reasonable.” Obi-Wan said evenly. “Whatever you think I have done, I promise you it isn’t true.”

“So it wasn’t you who forced me to into sleep? Another Obi-Wan perhaps?”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan shifted back slightly, aware of his disadvantaged position with Anakin looming above. “I’m afraid that’s the one thing I have done. You have to understand I was quite overwhelmed and thought it best to give myself some time to think. Not my kindest moment, dare I say, but I meant no ill will.” Obi-Wan felt Anakin waver in the Force, so he added, “What do you remember, Anakin?”

Anakin’s shoulders tensed and Obi-Wan cursed himself. “You stole memories from me. I can feel it. What did you do?”

Obi-Wan looked straight up at Anakin and said firmly, “I am not the one who did this to you. I’ve been keeping you on the run so I could attempt to bring you back, not lock you away in yourself further. Test me in the Force my friend, and you will see if I am honest or not.”

Obi-Wan opened himself to the bond for the second time in a day, but this time was vastly different from earlier, and ever before. He sensed confusion in Anakin, faint but in the same moment easier to distinguish than times before. The bond had tightened, but Anakin had faded.

Tension coiled up in Anakin as he brushed roughly against Obi-Wan’s consciousness and sought out his intent. In his own gentle probing Obi-Wan ran into scars — it was all he could think to call them. Gaps in Anakin’s perception, walls for Anakin to run into but never break down. At least, that was its purpose.

Obi-Wan vowed to tell no more lies, not to Anakin.

“What do you sense?” Obi-Wan said, falling back on the role of teacher. Obi-Wan hesitated, then extinguished his blade.

“You didn’t take my memories,” Anakin said slowly. He shifted on his feet, thinking, then retracted his own blade and kept it in hand. “But you did change me. I ... I want to trust you. I care about you. Did you make me feel this?”

The thought nearly made Obi-Wan shutter in disgust. “No, I would never. What you feel are your own feelings, restored to you. Others – Master Yoda – believed that with your emotions intact you endangered the Republic. He viewed this as a better solution to imprisoning you.” Obi-Wan looked away, a hand running absently at the smooth skin of his chin. “I believe he intended to rehabilitate you, but I could not allow you to become a puppet. I had thought the Jedi Order better than such cruelties. Apparently, I was wrong.”

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, a tread of curiosity forming at the bitterness Obi-Wan couldn’t hide. “You love the Order,” he said plainly, a statement not a question.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Obi-Wan took the moment of peace to rise to his feet. Anakin didn’t try to help, but he also didn’t hinder him. Obi-Wan brushed loose dust off his robes, “I haven’t properly considered it yet.”

It was a lie, terribly soon after he’d vowed not to tell any to Anakin. But it was a personal lie, one he liked to tell himself. Because while Anakin had slept oblivious on the floor of the cargo ship Obi-Wan had used to escape Coruscant, Obi-Wan realized there was something in the universe he loved more than the Jedi Order.


	9. Nine

Ahsoka sensed Rex when he entered the training room, distracting her momentarily from her sparing partner. A better opponent would have taken note of her small inattention and attacked hard, but Ahsoka’s sparring partner was wrapped up in her own anxieties. If Anakin saw them – two Padawans using a sparring session as a half-hearted distraction – they would have received a thorough talking-to. After he challenged and beat them in a sparring match within a few strikes, that is.

But again, Anakin was the whole point for the charade to begin with for Ahsoka. Mira, with her new prosthetic hand and dead Master, had her own reason for the careless, vicious strikes she launched in response to Ahsoka’s by-the-book run through the motions.

“Commander,” Rex said, watching the match with a frown. He had seen enough Jedi spar to note the sloppiness of the match and disapprove.

Ahsoka nodded at Mira and she returned the gesture, both of them disengaging from the fight and clipping their lightsabers to their belts. “Same time tomorrow, before I leave?” Mira nodded and bowed, solemn, and then left with a whoosh of the doors opening.

“Captain Rex, good to see you.” Ahsoka said, turning to Rex.

Rex’s gaze was on the door. “Padawan Juro, isn’t she sir?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka had found her in the Halls of Healing where she had been watching over one of the few survivors of her campaign. Ahsoka had offered to spar in attempt to wipe the blank expression off her face. For all they spoke of compassion, Jedi often struggled with the grief of their people. It was easier to give platitudes about becoming one with the Force than face grief head on. “Did you need to speak with me?”

Rex turned back to her, but with some reluctance. “I felt it necessary to warn you, sir, about the troops. Recent events have put them on edge. I’ve spoken with them and I ensure there will be no problem of loyalty under your command.”

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes, “Rex, what are you talking about?”

Rex carefully looked past her shoulder. “A few troopers have been stirring up suspicion against you, Commander. They distrust your closeness to Anakin Skywalker.”

Even though she suspected some Jedi felt this way, it hit Ahsoka to know that her own soldiers were wary of her. But the worst was the way Rex refused to look at her, like some part of him believed Ahsoka was ready to turn against the Republic too. Rex had trusted Anakin completely. That betrayal – if all was as the Jedi said – was a bitter warning that few could be trusted. The word of a brother might sound more like truth than that of a traitor’s apprentice.

“Take me to them,” Ahsoka said, her mind made up. “Now.” Ahsoka refused to lose the faith of her troops because of another’s betrayal. Ahsoka was Republic, and she always would be.

 

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

The barren desert of Jakku had little to offer unless one hoped to escape the company of the universe. In that case, it was rich in solitude and open spaces, allowing two Jedi on the lamb to practice their craft in the light of the dawning sun.

“You know, I do believe you’ve told me that before.” Anakin swung his lightsaber experimentally, tossing it from hand to hand with childlike joy. He took this moment of partial-amnesia better than most of the times when he lapsed into frustrated silences, hands breaking down and building up any kind of machinery he could get a hold of. In the four days since they left civilization – for reasons Obi-Wan did not yet have the heart to tell Anakin – Anakin’s moods flared up and diffused rapidly.

He recalled for Obi-Wan his youth, life before the Jedi found him and during his time as a young Padawan (his distaste for the desert remained strong). He struggled more with the war, details clear to him but names unknown. He once described Ahsoka so clearly Obi-Wan could envision her in his mind, laughing at whatever reckless thing she and Anakin had pulled off, but Anakin had no recollection of her name or that he served as her Master. The conspicuous lack of Padmé Amidala, on whom Anakin had laid his affections on throughout his time with the Jedi, disturbed Obi-Wan. She was represented alone as the Queen of Naboo in a faraway, vaguely fond memory.

“Come on, Obi-Wan, I can handle this. I haven’t forgotten how to fight.”

Anakin looked ready, so comfortable with the lightsaber in hand that it accentuated how ill at ease he seemed to be most of the time now. He jeered at Obi-Wan more in the last few days, but the stilted edge remained. It was as if they had to completely relearn their relationship, Anakin as ever bucking at the idea of being controlled.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan conceded. “But Anakin, be mindful. We are both weeks out of practice.”

Anakin spun his blade again, agile as he adjusted his grip and solidified his stance. “We know which one of us serves to gain from that weakness, Kenobi.” Obi-Wan took up his own stance and didn’t reply, waiting.

Anakin stuck, the dance began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they're on Jakku, because I think I'm funny. With study abroad and the holidays and regular classes once again, this fell to the back of my mine. Hopefully the updates will be more often now.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quicker update than expected... I wrote this during class today. Let me know if you find any mistakes! Comments make me happy and then I write faster. :)

_She stood from the couch to receive him, warm smile brightening her face as she clasped his hand in hers. “Bail, good to see you. I hope your trip home to Alderaan proved fruitful?”_

_“Very much so, thank you Padmé.”_

_She looked ever the Queen of Naboo she once served as. Her hair was tied into two wound braids brought together at the back with an ornate gold band. Her dress shimmered in the light a warm blue, a brown band clinched around her waist._

_Bail bent to kiss her hand, then they set to work._

His access codes still worked. He didn’t expect it, had half prepared himself for the door to open on the new Naboo representative, whom he’d yet to meet. He had overheard that the death of two major political figures was taking quite a toll on the people of Naboo and hoped the new senator hadn’t known Amidala or Palpatine personally.

The couches remained, but much of Padmé’s personal art collection had been removed. Only a few artifacts could be spotted here and there now, but Bail didn’t know if it was because they belonged to the state or if no one knew what Padmé had wanted done with them. Moving into the room fully, he thought again of that last day he’d seen her. All had seemed normal then.

He didn’t know what he wished to gain from coming here.

He heard the creaking of metal and turned, just as a golden-plated protocol droid turned the corner and gasped. “Senator Organa! Oh, what a surprise it is to see you!”

Bail mustered a small smile, “Hello, Threepio. Likewise. What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the Naberrie family on Naboo?”

“I couldn’t! Mistress Padmé’s family is very kind, but I must wait here until Master Ani returns.”

“Master Ani?” Bail asked, confused.

“Yes,” Threepio nodded. “Master Skywalker is my creator. He is away on a mission for the Jedi.”

Bail froze, unsure of how to respond. No one, it seemed, had bothered to inform the droid of what had occurred to his master following Padmé’s death. To tell it the truth was something even Bail couldn’t supply, and he hardly wanted to break the official story to it.

“My, what an awful host I’m being,” Threepio said when the silence stretched. “Would you like something to drink?” Threepio began to turn away when another droid entered, a small astromech that beeped excitedly at Threepio.

“Hush, you, he doesn’t want to speak to you,” Threepio chided the astromech, which made more incessant, high-pitched noises.

“What does it want?” Bail asked.

“Artoo has gone crazy since Master Skywalker left,” Threepio tsked. “All this bucket talks about these days is some order for the clone troopers that he needs to deliver to Master Skywalker. It’s all nonsense to me. Please, Senator Organa, I wouldn’t worry a moment on it.”

“An order? What order?” Bail moved closer to the little blue droid, but its beeping meant nothing to him.

“He won’t tell me,” Threepio said, then translated. “Artoo wants to know if you know where Master Skywalker has gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Bail responded to the droid. “I don’t know where he is or I would tell you.”

The astromech made a short, upset noise and rolled out of the room.

“Oh, now he’ll be in a mood all day.” Threepio sighed. “Could I offer you something to drink? Eat? There isn't much but –”

“No, no, Threepio, that will be all,” Bail cut in, watching the door where the droid had exited with an uneasy feeling. “I can see myself out now.”

“Do come back!” Threepio called. Then, more to itself, “It’s rather lonely here.”


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hope you enjoy and I love all your feedback. :)

“We shouldn’t be keeping secrets like this from the rest of the Council. I don’t like it.”

“Come, soon, the time will to tell. Sleeps now, she does.”

“Will she wake?”

“Know, I do not.”

 

Anakin wiped the sweat from his face and shaded his eyes from the fading sun. Their sparring was improving, almost on par with battle ready. They only sparred at sunrise and sunset, keeping away during high heat. “Why did you take me to the desert?”

“Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice for a vacation spot either,” Obi-Wan handed him a flask of water and watched Anakin drink it deeply. Obi-Wan was glad he brought supplies from Llanic, enough for a few weeks, before they came to this barren place. He had enough dignity yet to keep him away from the scavenger outpost, where the poor souls of this planet exchanged scraps for scraps.

“I think I miss Coruscant,” Anakin replied, hesitant. He didn’t trust his feelings much anymore. “At least there was greenery at the Temple.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, envisioning them sitting at the poolside in the south courtyard, surrounded by the sound of running water and younglings shouting in the distance. Speeders zipping overhead. Clones patrolling the perimeter. A wartime memory, but at least that was a war Obi-Wan knew how to navigate.

Now they ran, Anakin accused of murdering the Chancellor and Padmé.

“I want more.”

Obi-Wan looked up, and found that Anakin had shifted closer on their makeshift bench of scrap metal Anakin had discovered, his worn cloak pressed against Obi-Wan’s as he looked him with intent. Obi-Wan didn’t have to ask; Anakin asked each day. Some days he begged, pathetic sounds escaping his mouth as he pled with Obi-Wan to remember, to feel like something more than a ghost. Two week had passed since Obi-Wan had last gone into his mind, and his excuses were starting to run thin.

The days Anakin cried, Obi-Wan turned and left, not returning to their tent until morning. He knew if he stayed in those moments he would grant Anakin his every wish.

Today, he looked Obi-Wan in the eye and said nothing more. He expected Obi-Wan to say no and would accept. Today, Obi-Wan knew he was ready for it.

Obi-Wan rose to his feet and gestured to the tent. “Come, lay down.”

Anakin closed his eyes the moment he lay on his sack, trusting. Obi-Wan knelt and put a gentle hand to the lightsaber at Anakin’s belt. “May I?”

Anakin slit his eyes open and nodded, understanding. Obi-Wan unclipped his own saber from his belt, putting both of them out of reach. He couldn’t know what Anakin would do this time.

Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s temple and stared straight forward, eyes unfocused, as he opened himself up to their Force bond. Anakin pushed back, gently, acknowledging him in the Force. Obi-Wan felt for the barriers, the mind trap, and confirmed what he had suspected over the last two weeks: once the initial opening by Obi-Wan, Anakin had been fracturing the barriers internally. Even as Anakin struggled to settle himself into his new understanding, he pushed. Of course he did.

“Anakin?”

“Master?” Anakin responded, and accompanied it with a flood of warmth, drawing Obi-Wan’s own affection forth. Anakin must have felt it, because Obi-Wan caught sight of Anakin’s mouth curling into a small smile. Obi-Wan forgot that the bond made him vulnerable, too. To express that much, that strongly, Anakin must have been ripping down the walls in his mind whenever he had a chance.

Maybe Yoda had built them that way. Maybe he never intended to make Anakin suffer like this forever.

Obi-Wan dismissed his thoughts immediately, refocusing on the bond. It didn’t matter now.

“I’m going to try now.” Obi-Wan said, but gave Anakin no time to react before he dug in, wrapping with the Force around the barriers and giving them a forceful _tug_ –

Anakin screamed.

Obi-Wan felt it when Anakin fell unconscious, his side of the bond deadening. Still, Obi-Wan focused on the binds, trying to hold them all once, but the Force pushed him to one barrier in particular. Giving in, he focused his energies on the barrier, which cracked and strained under his pressure. When it finally broke, Obi-Wan released Anakin all at once, slumping down on Anakin’s shoulder. His vision clouded and he blinked twice before he gave in. He slept for a long time.


	12. Twelve

Ahsoka had retired to her rooms early that evening, claiming excessive tiredness. Master Plo had looked disapproving, knowing that her mind still lingered on Anakin, but let her be on her way. They left in the morning to return to war. He probably suspected she just wanted to hide in her chambers again, out of sight from the watchful Jedi.  
  
Getting kicked in the stomach and slammed into a wall in Coruscant’s underbelly by Asajj Ventress was probably not what Master Plo had in mind.  
  
“Hey, cut it out, I’m not here for a fight,” Ahsoka huffed, though she ignited her lightsaber as a precaution. Count Dooku’s former attack Nek was still a Jedi killer. The only difference was that she no longer had anyone to bow to. “I heard from a friend you do bounty work now, right?”  
  
This better work, Ahsoka thought, her hand near her commlink in case she needed to alert Rex and the others to aid her escape. Distrustful or not, her men weren’t going to abandon her in confronting a former enemy. It had taken all her effort and assertion of authority to keep Rex from alerting Master Plo or demanding to stand at her side in this fight. Anakin would be furious to know she had gone after Ventress, but Ahsoka wasn’t foolhardy enough to come alone. And anyway, Anakin wasn’t around to yell anymore.  
  
“I do whatever I please, little girl.” Ventress hissed, her red lightsabers casting eerie shadows on the warehouse walls and across her tattooed face. “I hear there is a very nice bounty for whoever captures Skywalker’s Padawan.”  
  
“I can offer you a better deal Ventress,” Ahsoka said, testing her ground with a careful step forward. Ventress shifted her stance to match it, but didn’t strike out. “I know you want to see Count Dooku fall.”  
  
“I want that traitor _dead_ ,” Ventress spit.  
  
“The Jedi don’t believe in vengeance, you know that,” Ahsoka replied. “But if Dooku is captured, and with our intel and yours I think we could make that happen, the war will end. The Confederacy will fall apart and Dooku will have failed.”  
  
“You don’t have the authority offer Republic intelligence to an outsider,” Ventress shifted her grip on her blades. “What are you playing at?”  
  
“No games, Ventress. There is something going on here, something that doesn’t make any sense.” Ahsoka took a calming breath. She could be thrown out of the Jedi Order for this. Depending on what she gave Ventress, she could be executed for treason in the military courts. She’d left this part of the plan out of her explanation to Rex, knowing that he couldn’t keep that secret. But _nothing added up_ and she had been Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan for too long to ignore it. Even Masters Unduli and Vos were suspicious before Anakin’s guilt was announced all over the Holos.  
  
Despite Master Plo’s urging for her to let this go, she couldn’t. During her mediation on Carida the Force had told her that more was at stake here than personal attachment. This was the right path.  
  
Ahsoka took another breath and said, “I need you to find Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.”  
  
Ventress extinguished her lightsabers, but only so she could put her hands on her hips to laugh at Ahsoka. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? The most wanted assassin in the galaxy and his Jedi hunter?”  
  
Ahsoka opened up her determination to Ventress. “They’ve gone missing. No one no knows where they are. Who better to track down two Jedi than you?”  
  
Ventress considered her. “You don’t believe the Council.”  
  
Ahsoka shut herself off again. “That’s none of your concern.”  
  
“Hmm. I ... let’s say I’m familiar with people I trusted hiding things from me. You want me to help you find your missing Jedi in exchange for information that will possibly will help me kill Dooku? You really aren’t used to dealing with bounty hunters, are you, little one? I require payment. Up front. I still haven’t decided whether I should let you live or not yet.”  
  
Ahsoka tossed a sack from her robes at Ventress, who caught it easily. “I’m not the one you want dead. You kill me, you’d still be doing Dooku’s dirty work for him.”  
  
Ventress clenched the sack tighter, but didn’t follow the bait. “And where do you propose I start looking for your wayward master? It’s a big galaxy. Lots of places to hide.”  
  
“The intel is old, but last I know they were in the Rishi system in the Outer Rim. We lost them a few standard weeks ago.”  
  
“Weeks?” Ventures snarled.  
  
“I thought you were one of the best, Ventress,” Ahsoka taunted. “Gotten soft?”  
  
“Never,” Ventress said, but Ahsoka could tell she was warming up the idea. She probably hadn’t had a proper challenge since she’d been forced from Dooku’s service. “What do you want from them?  
  
“The truth.”  
  
Ventress snorted. “Still dishing out the usual Jedi garbage, I see. Fine, I’ll get you your truth. All your intel on Dooku, now.”  
  
Ahsoka started talking.


	13. Thirteen

Anakin was not in the tent when Obi-Wan awoke. He struggled to rise, a bone-deep weariness holding him down but the need to know where Anakin was more pressing still. Grunting, Obi-Wan shifted into a half-upright position and bat back the tent flap. It was night in the desert, soundless expect for the faint clank of metal against metal coming from their unlit campsite. As his eye adjusted to the dark, Obi-Wan saw a familiar figure with a metal hand that glinted in the moonlight.  
  
Obi-Wan allowed himself to sink back down, more at ease. He’d witnessed similar scenes throughout Anakin’s childhood, the ever cold child awake in the night turning to the comfort of fixing. He would sneak off with broken droids and bring them to their rooms to fix. When Obi-Wan chided him for not asking first, Anakin would insist that he was a better mechanic than the hired ones anyway. The Jedi always knew when their droids had been fixed by little Ani; they always came back with some alteration or another, “improvements” he called it.  
  
Just as Obi-Wan was about to drift off again, the tent flap was pulled back and Anakin entered. Obi-Wan slitted his eyes open and watched as Anakin turned his back and slid off his robes, before burrowing down in his own blankets at Obi-Wan’s side. Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was aware he was awake, and figured that if Anakin wanted to talk, he would.  
  
“What is her name? The woman I forgot?”  
  
Obi-Wan shifted, opening his eyes again. “Who?”  
  
Anakin sat up again, and Obi-Wan could hear agitation simmering close to the surface. “Don’t play games with me. You know who.”  
  
Obi-Wan did. “Padmé Amidala.”  
  
“Padmé,” Anakin breathed, reverent. “My wife.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” It was Obi-Wan’s turn jolt upward. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Anakin watched Obi-Wan before speaking, assessing. His silence reminded Obi-Wan that he’d again forgot himself, thinking that this was his Anakin. Even with the confession of missing memories, Obi-Wan kept forgetting that there were pieces gone in this version of his friend, a distance there that made him wary, slower to act on emotion. His strong reaction to Padme threw Obi-Wan off. His words rattled Obi-Wan worse.  
  
“I didn’t tell you,” Anakin said, telling himself more than Obi-Wan. The idea seemed to perplex him, like he couldn’t think of why he would have made that decision.  
  
“Yes, I understand that now,” Obi-Wan snapped, but he was deflecting his anger. This Anakin had no reason to lie to him. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t— he’d known, truthfully, that Anakin’s interest in Padme hadn’t gone away. They were both horrible at disguising their feelings for one another. But to go so far, to act behind Obi-Wan’s back…  
  
“I understand,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan shot him a look. “Master, don’t be jealous of her. I care for you both.”  
  
The frank admission surprised a laugh out of Obi-Wan, “Jealousy? You think that’s what this is? Anakin, you disobeyed a key tenet of the Jedi Code–“  
  
“I know you care for me. Or,” Anakin stuttered, a sudden shyness causing his eyes to dart away. “You cared about him.” Anakin rarely acknowledged the difference between himself and the Anakin that existed before everything went to hell. “You wouldn’t have done all of this if you hadn’t cared about him, beyond master and apprentice. Besides,” Obi-Wan heard the hint of a laugh his voice, “What do you care about the Jedi Code now? You’ve broken rank with the Order.”  
  
“I am still a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, but he doubted that more with each day on the run. He wasn’t about to turn to the dark side, but he had a feeling that with each act he was sealing himself off from the path he had been on. Master Qui-Gon Jinn had always told him there was more to the Force than the Jedi and the Sith, but he feared a future without the guiding force of the Jedi Order. The Jedi was his life, his whole belief system, and even if it wasn’t proper to say, his family.  
  
Anakin surprised him — this was happening too often nowadays, Anakin exhibiting a new form of unpredictability — by grabbing Obi-Wan’s left hand in the dark. His hand was warm, if dirty from his tinkering. The angle was awkward. Anakin had reached across Obi-Wan’s body to grab hold, sitting sideways as Obi-Wan remained half-propped up on his elbows. They could barely see each other in the dark, but it didn’t matter. Obi-Wan’s breathing shallowed, anticipation tensing his body.  
  
“I don’t think I am a Jedi anymore, Master,” Anakin whispered, a thread of fear accompanying a tightened hold on Obi-Wan’s hand. “I don’t remember what I did, but I don’t think it’s something you come back from.”  
  
He pulled his hand loose from Obi-Wan’s abruptly, and turned away. Obi-Wan tried to sleep, but Anakin’s restless shifting kept him awake until the sun ghosted the horizon.


	14. Fourteen

D8S2 never much understood its master. 

Standing to the side in Count Dooku’s reception chamber, D8S2 had fallen into a half-sleep mode after Dooku left to deal with Confederacy business. It would have fallen into a total shutdown, but its master had mangled the last protocol droid that had failed to act quick enough to answer his commands. That had been quite a mess to clean up afterward.

At last, the Count entered through the main entryway with a flick of his wrist, sliding the door shut behind himself in the face of a small, annoyed-looking Geonosian.

“Dead,” Dooku muttered to himself. “Truly dead.”

“Is there something I could help you with, Darth Tyranus?” D8S2 didn’t like his master’s new name, but he wasn’t about to slip up in his presence.

Dooku ignored him, slinking toward his chair on the dais. D8S2 nodded minutely and returned to staring forward toward the grand, high windows. It wasn’t his business.

Dooku settled in and closed his eyes, and D8S2 thought he must be doing his Sith magic again. It tried to move further away from the dais. The magic always seemed to involve violence. Dooku’s eyes flashed open and D8S2 fell immediately into a rigid stance.

Dooku chuckled lowly. “All the better for it. Master and Apprentice cannot last for long. Skywalker handled the dirty work for me.”

“Sir?” D8S2 vocalized at a low volume.

“I have a task for you,” Dooku said, and D8S2 rushed to stand before the Count. “Contact Kamino. I want to know where my clones are.”

 

“How long does this last, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, eating with lackluster interest. Once the sun sunk lower in the sky, they would spar. A standard week had passed in relative silence, and even Obi-Wan grew restless with the lack of action. It was like a perverse vacation from a long war, except they were still on the run. Vos no doubt sought them, one of the best trackers in the Order. Obi-Wan knew they needed to move again soon. If not to hide, for Obi-Wan’s sanity. He needed news.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan responded honestly.

“Then what do we gain from waiting here?” Anakin said evenly. “I doubt General Grievous waits to kill our men because Anakin Skywalker has forgotten himself.” Names were coming to him easier now, and he’d casually drop them into conversation like he hadn’t just remembered who they were the night before. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen in a desert? I kick up some sand?”

“Don’t say that, Anakin. That’s just asking for trouble.” Obi-Wan could think of all sorts of things that could happen. Anakin had a knack for destruction.

Anakin gifted the comment with vague amusement, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t lift. He’d been preparing this speech, then. “You’re here. I trust you. And I know I’m only half the man you want, or need.”

Obi-Wan met Anakin’s eyes. They were serious, but not emotional. Obi-Wan didn’t bother to counter the statement, knew that Anakin had accepted this for fact some time ago. This quieter, more subdued Anakin had been his companion for some time, but everything that set Anakin aside as reckless and uncontrolled was gone from him. He didn’t long for a fight or complain about the unfairness of their situation. After showing a flash of genuine love for Padmé, Anakin hadn’t asked about her since. Obi-Wan still sat on the truth of her death, even though he realized it would better to reveal it now instead of later. But Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he could handle Anakin’s quiet acceptance of her death.

Obi-Wan made up his mind. This time — this time would be the last. No more waiting for a go ahead he was never going to receive.

They fell into their roles easily, Anakin staring at the ceiling of the small cave they had retreated to in escape from the sun, hand behind his head, propping it up. But before Obi-Wan could reach his temple, Anakin caught his wrist. “Goodbye, friend.”

Obi-Wan stilled, then nodded. “May the Force be with you.” It should have felt ridiculous, giving his farewell to a man that wasn’t going anywhere, but he knew the implications of this act. The Anakin that Obi-Wan sought to bring back had spent his last moments of consciousness writhing in the collective hold of the Council, who only together could restrain him. He had screamed Padmé’s name, a dark fury coursing through him.

With that reminder, Obi-Wan wade into their connection and then started to rip the walls down with single-minded determination. He didn’t see the bald woman watching in the distance until he finished and Anakin shook with tremors beneath him.


	15. Fifteen

Ventress eyed Kenobi as he staggered to his feet at the cave entrance, lit lightsaber clutched in his hand. She marveled that after all her efforts, here Skywalker and Kenobi were, practically served to her on a platter. It was almost a pity she wasn’t here to kill them.

Kenobi, unsteady on his feet, gripped his lightsaber tightly in both hands, waiting in a defensive position. Ventress strode forward but didn’t bother taking out her sabers. She saw Skywalker crumpled on the ground, shaking and murmuring. She couldn’t determine if he was conscious or not, but made note not to disturb him. Whatever Kenobi had done to him, it made the whole area sing in the Force, a blooming resurgence of power that centered on the young Jedi.

“Caught you at a bad time, Kenobi?” Ventress called. While she had no intention of fighting, toying with Jedi was a favorite pastime.

“What are you doing here, Ventress?” Kenobi replied, trying for menacing but falling more toward exhausted. Good for extracting information, if he thought talking would make her go away.

“It took me some time to find you,” Ventress said. “I’m almost impressed.”

“Master?” Skywalker groaned, moving carefully onto his side in the dirt, eyes unfocused and blinking in the glare of the sunlight. Kenobi cast his gaze between Skywalker and Ventress before kneeling at Skywalker’s side, lowering his lightsaber as he muttered assurances to his confused companion.

“Padawan Tano told me the Council lied about your situation,” Ventress continued, moving closer in slow, methodical steps. She was offended she only warranted half his attention.

“Ahsoka?” Skywalker asked. “What did you do to her?” He focused his eyes past Kenobi’s shoulder onto her, and Ventress’s hands twitched toward her sabers. Weak as he seemed, Ventress had the sense that he might do anything if provoked.

“Calm yourself, Skywalker. She came to me with a deal, and I was feeling generous that day. So, back the matter at hand.” Ventress smirked, “Story has it that Kenobi here was hunting you for your pious Jedi Council. I think we can agree that was a lie.”

“Ahsoka — she’s looking for us? Why?” Skywalker asked, and Kenobi threw a warning glance at Ventress. Interesting.

“Even if I believed you, Ventress,” Kenobi grit out, “What would Ahsoka want from you?”

“You, actually. The Council’s been feeding the public a story about Skywalker killing the Chancellor and that Senator—”

“Padmé,” Skywalker said, and Ventress was about to congratulate him on his naming abilities when his lightsaber sailed into his hands and all weakness seemed to leave his body. Ventress felt his pain, unshielded in the Force, and she flinched against it. He rose to his feet with darkness in his eyes.

“I. Would. _Never_ —”

Skywalker began to move toward her, igniting his saber into a luminescent blue, but Kenobi grabbed Skywalker’s arm and forcefully brought him to a halt. Ventress had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t what she signed up for.

“I don’t know what you want Ventress, but listen to me,” Kenobi said, not looking at her but focused on Skywalker, who looked seconds from tearing away from him at Ventress. “I suggest you leave. Now. If you really are here for Ahsoka, tell her to stop looking.”

Ventress could read a bad situation when she saw one. “Well, it’s been a ride boys. I’ll let you be.” Ventress turned heel and called over her shoulder, “I’ll gladly give up your location for the right price, of course. But because I’m nice, I’ll give you a head start.”

Skywalker roared in rage as she slipped into the cockpit of her ship, and she felt a thread of pity for Kenobi.


End file.
